First of July Update

For the interested, and anyone else who needs one more reason to put off mopping the kitchen floor.

It's a little quieter around here today. As I write this, Trevor should be finishing up his first day at the Amalfi Coast Music and Arts Festival in Maiori, Italy. He left two days ago and arrived yesterday after about 24 hours of traveling. His route took him from Chicago to Montreal to London to Milan to Napoli via air and then to Maiori via shuttle. The reason for the less-than-direct path was our need to pay for his airfare with accumulated credit card points. (Ironic, isn't it, that it takes more planes, more time, more labor and more fuel to get there more cheaply.) Trevor was awarded a grant for part of his cost and is paying for the rest out of his own money. He auditioned and was accepted into the Young Artists' track, which means that in addition to studying with some amazing teachers he will also be performing a solo recital. Needless to say, we are extremely proud of him, not only for the hard work that earned him that honor but also for his success in traveling internationally by himself for the first time ever. He has spent the last several months learning some basic Italian! It seems to have helped. Not only did he find all his gates on time, but he found a place to trade his dollars for euros in London, and he caught a cab from the airport to his hotel in Napoli, spending the night before catching a cab back to the airport for the shuttle to Maiori the next morning. The thought of doing all that alone is scary to me, so all I can say to my son is "Bravo." Here's a picture of Trevor on his first day in Maiori. He is on the right; his teacher is in the middle.

There have been a few mix-ups. In Montreal his carry-on, which was valeted due to insufficient space in the overhead compartment of the small plane, was sent to baggage claim by accident instead of being returned to him. This meant he had to leave the secure area and go through Customs to retrieve his bag and then clear security again to catch his trans-Atlantic flight. In addition, we discovered that even though we visited our local T-Mobile store ahead of time to get instructions on calling internationally between our cell phones, his phone is not working in Italy, resulting in some tense times for the parentals as we awaited his check-in calls (luckily in London he was able to find an internet kiosk so as to send us an email). Finally, his computer, which he decided to pack in his luggage rather than carrying with him, was damaged by baggage handlers who did not take care to return it to its cushioned location after inspecting his bag. He seems to have not been too fazed by any of this (or if he is, he's putting on a good front for his worrywart mom).

Here is the website for the piano portion of the festival. If you click on "People" and then "Young Artists" you will see Trevor's bio along with those of all the other remarkable young pianists chosen for the performance track. Prepare to be blown away. There are several child prodigies in the mix.

Moving right along, Caitlin is one week into Drivers' Ed (Driver's Ed?) and is doing great. We practiced yesterday and I didn't scream or grab the steering wheel once. At least I don't think I did. Maybe I am just blocking it all out.

Evan recently took another swimming class. You can read his swimming journey here. The first attempt, a few years ago, did not go well. Last fall we tried again with private lessons and he made great progress. Now he is building on that progress! Here he is trying out the big slide for the first time:


As usual, we are continuing "school" into the summer months. Considering our hit-and-miss, um, relaxed homeschooling style, we have never been able to justify taking the summer totally off. Right now Caitlin and I are reading Hamlet, and Evan and I are trying to wrap up the Life of Fred elementary series. Piano lessons, continue, of course, as do Bible and catechism study.

And, oh, did I mention we're moving? Dad is in Oklahoma right now, laying the groundwork for things to come. It looks like God cooled things off a little there this week. I'm sure that was done with my husband in mind. ;-) It's been a long time since we experienced summer in the South!

Preparing to Say Goodbye

In two weeks Phillip will play his last service at Trinity. Our stay among the people there has been short, but the love has been tremendous. We are sad to leave new friends so soon but thankful for the time we had in their midst. They were exactly what we needed at exactly the time we needed them and we hope and pray they feel the same about us. I did not go to church prepared with my good recorder today, so these were taken with my cell phone. The quality may not be the best, but the memories are priceless. To the people of Trinity: thank you for everything.


"We Will Tell the Next Generation" (Psalm 78) from Cheryl on Vimeo.



"Let Children Hear the Mighty Deeds" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Music Mnemonics

I saw this on Facebook today:

It was linked on one of the music pages I follow, with the question, "What acronyms did you use to remember the lines and spaces?" Here are the ones my first piano teacher taught me and that I still use with my students:

Treble clef lines - Every Good Boy Does Fine
Treble clef spaces  - FACE
Bass clef lines - Great Big Dogs Fight Animals
Bass clef spaces - All Cars Eat Gas

Over the years I have come across many others. One popular alternative for the treble clef lines is "Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge." I have also heard "Good Boys Deserve Fudge Always" for the bass clef lines. I think if you are going to use one of those you had better not use the other one--they are too similar and easily confused. For the bass clef spaces I have also heard "All Cows Eat Grass." If you took music lessons growing up, what mnemonics did you use? Feel free to leave your favorite in the comments.

This Modern World in Which We Live

This just struck me as funny, and reflective of a world that has exploded with allergies and sensitivities. Yesterday Evan decided he wanted to make scrambled eggs according to the recipe in the Dr. Seuss book Scrambled Eggs Super. That recipe includes things like ginger, horseradish, nuts, and I can't remember what else. I prevailed upon Evan to make his scrambled eggs the normal way, suggesting that if he really wanted to add something, he could toss in a little cheese. So he took my advice, and his eggs were quite palatable. He was proud of the outcome and decided he would share his recipe with the piano students later in the day. "I bet they will like it," he mused, but then added, "unless they're lactose intolerant." I can't remember giving any thought to such things when I was nine years old!

Plenty of Heart and Plenty of Hope

Wow, almost two weeks without a post! There's a reason for that. It's been an extremely eventful couple of weeks, full of many twists and turns. I will spare you the details and get right to the part that matters: our family is soon to embark on a new adventure, one about which we are more excited than we can say.

It was about twenty years ago, in 1993, that we came to Illinois. At the time I only had one baby, a happy, healthy 10-month old named Trevor. Phillip was working full-time as a college music professor when Trinity Lutheran in Peoria saw something in him and asked him to be their cantor. After much thought and prayer, he said yes, and I decided I'd better go along to keep him out of trouble. ;-) Several things made it very difficult for us to leave Texas, not the least of which was my father's declining health (he died in 1994 of lung cancer). But we believed that God was calling Phillip to this work. So we said goodbye to family and friends as well as to our home state and headed north.

About 6-1/2 years later Phillip heard another call, this time to a church in the Chicago suburbs. By this time we had a cute, curly-headed little carrot-top named Caitlin. We had also in the intervening years discovered something called homeschooling. So this time we packed up not just a house but also a school. For the last fourteen years both operations have been humming along quite nicely here in Chicagoland. About four years in, our number increased as we were joined by a happenin' dude named Evan. Then last year we had another major change as Phillip moved his office, and we moved our church membership, to Chicago's south side. We will always be grateful for the opportunity to know and love the people of Trinity (yes, another Trinity!) Lutheran in Tinley Park and for all the love they have shown to us. Our lives have been enriched by our time with them.

It is clear to us, however, that God is again calling. And this time, twenty years after we moved north, He is calling us back to our roots, not to Texas, but to what our Southern kin might call a "kissing cousin." And we believe without reservation that it's where He wants us right now. So in the next few months we will be writing the final chapter of our Illinois story and beginning a new one in Oklahoma, at Immanuel Lutheran in Broken Arrow. We are looking forward to being closer to most of our family and to providing a warmer climate for my elderly mother. But more important, we are anticipating the possibilities for Phillip to share the Gospel through music that we are convinced await him at Immanuel. In a future post maybe I'll share a bit more about those. In the meantime, your prayers are appreciated for the dear ones we are leaving behind and for the ones we are looking forward to knowing better in the years to come.

This Is My Life

While having his Eggo waffles this morning, Evan started giggling. I asked him what he was giggling about and he said, "Neo-Platonism." He then exploded in laughter, jumped out of his chair, and got in the dog's face as he repeatedly shouted, "Neo-Platonism! Neo-Platonism! Neo-Platonism!"

Help.

Birthday Pictures

Phillip had a most excellent birthday last week. We started the evening by going out to one of his favorite restaurants, Heaven on Seven. He thought it was just going to be our immediate family, but there were a few surprise guests already seated. The first picture is of some of our dear friends in the area; the second is of a couple who drove all the way from Minnesota to be here for his fiftieth. We love them all so much.

You know these guys.

After dinner we went to the home of one of those dear couples above and sat on their deck by the fire while enjoying their lovely view.

Creole Chocolate Bourbon Cake for the king of our castle! 

Watching Dad open presents.

There's a story behind this sequence of pictures. Yep, there is. 

For Evan, the best part--opening presents!

What every cantor wants--a new organ book! (He actually got five.)

The pages fold out to help with page turns!

This one is here just because it's so wonderful.

The kids and I prepared a hymn to sing to the one who usually either sings or leads the singing. This time he just got to listen. We sang "How Firm a Foundation" (for my LSB friends, #728). It is one of his favorites and seemed to fit, what with the fiery trials, all-sufficient grace, and gray hairs. :-) Caitlin sang the first stanza, we did harmony on the second, Trevor sang the third, we did canon on the fourth, and our friends joined in on the fifth. In the first picture I am enjoying watching Phillip listen to his daughter. 

May this year be your best yet, our dearest husband and father.

That Quotable Guy

I'm starting to wonder if he's thinking these up ahead of time just to see if we're paying attention.

The scene is dinnertime.

Me: "Just think, one month from now Trevor will be in Italy!"

Evan: "Yeah, and 90 years from now he'll be dead!"

(To which Trevor responded, rightly enough, that we can't know that for sure. People do live to be 110. Of course, then it was pointed out that what we can know for sure is that 90 years from now I'll be dead. Thank you, dear children. I am so glad those math and biology lessons did not go to waste.)

I'll Take What I Can Get

When his dad is out of town, Evan likes to sleep with me. I'm cherishing these days--there aren't going to be many more of them. Last night, the second night of my husband's absence, Evan came in to the bedroom and announced, "I'm here to take care of you, Mom! You're glad, aren't you? Because that way, if there's a fire, I can help you!" Then he looked deep into my eyes and lovingly affirmed, "I would be willing to get scorched for you, Mom."

Wow. My hero. Of course, in the next breath, his sacrificial love gained some perspective: "But if there were bees, I wouldn't be able to help you. I've never been scorched, so I can do that. But I've been stung by a bee, and I never want to do that again."

The Way He Was

"I bet you're going to miss your younger years, Dad."

Ah, yes. Nine-year-old wisdom. But don't worry, honey--you can cherish the memories of those younger years.

Until, of course, those are also gone. . . .

;-)

Silly Question

Out-of-town visitor: "What's your favorite subject, Evan?"

Evan: "I don't have a favorite subject. I'm homeschooled."

The Big 5-0

Slacker that I am, I was just going to link to this birthday post from four years ago and let you make the applicable mental updates. But then I remembered all these great moments from the last few years and thought you might appreciate seeing them together in one place.

Happy birthday, my dearest Phillip. You have truly only just begun. ♥

Actually, Yes, It Is About the Nail

I have seen this making the rounds on Facebook for a week or two and finally watched today. Unfortunately, I think my husband will be able to relate. But it's not just a male/female thing. I can relate, and I bet you can, too. I daresay each of us has been either the twit who won't acknowledge the nail hanging out of her head or the concerned friend/spouse/family member who would like to help but is blocked from doing so because to state the obvious would result in immediate excommunication from the twit's emotional life.

True, sometimes it's not about the nail. But when the nail is this big and is embedded in a person's forehead, he or she might do well to listen to loved ones when they suggest getting that sucker out of there.


It's Not About the Nail from Jason Headley on Vimeo.

Happy Memorial Day

The Young Naperville Singers were honored to sing for the local Memorial Day celebration. Here is their performance. The young lady who fainted in the first video is fine, by the way.

"An American Anthem" from Cheryl on Vimeo.




"America (My Country 'Tis of Thee)" and "God Bless America" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

God's Will

A few days ago one of the blogging pastors I follow wrote this post on the topic of God's will. In it he questions the belief of some Christians that God always has specific intentions for the decisions we make in our earthly lives and that if we are listening closely enough to Him it is possible for us to know those intentions. Rather than trying to quote from the article, I encourage you to read the whole thing. It is not only wise, but it is comforting. It lifts the burden of discerning and making the "right" decision, reminding the reader that God's eternal plan goes way beyond our day to day existence. "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28). Whether we take this job or that one, marry this person or that one, go to this school or that one, if we keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, He will bless.

I think a logical extension of this point is equally comforting. Not only should we not assume that God has specific intentions for every decision we make, but we should also not assume that the things that happen to us are necessarily His will. Once when my husband and I were going through a puzzling and difficult time I was told, "This is what God wants for you right now." The words came from a friend and were intended to offer comfort, but they didn't. So much about what was happening seemed wrong. How could it be God's will? At about the same time a different friend told my husband, "Expect blessing." What Gospel comfort that was to our troubled hearts! "Expect blessing!" There's no way to know whether the things that happen are God's will. There's no way to discern without a doubt what God wants us to do (if He even has a preference). But what we can know, because it is written throughout scripture, is that God blesses His children.

From Pastor Surburg (I guess I'm going to quote after all):

God's great "Yes!" to us in Christ gives us the assurance that God works for our good and that our decisions can't get in the way of God carrying out his will. It is comforting to know that our bumbling can't prevent God from doing what He wants to get done.  We needlessly torment ourselves if we worry about figuring out what God’s will is on these kinds of specific life decisions.  We can’t know it.  What we do know is the love God has revealed in Christ, and this guarantees that God is working for our good.  So pray, “Thy will be done.”  So make the best decision you can.  And then walk in faith, knowing that God will work out His purpose.

A New Find

I think my readers--the mommy types, at least--will like this blog. It belongs to this writer. I can't help wondering if she's Lutheran.

"Beneath the African Sky"

This is not one of my videos. I still need to upload the ones from the concert. This was taken by another mom during the final rehearsal. After being made available online it came to the attention of composer Paul Caldwell, who contacted the director of Caitlin's choir and expressed his enthusiastic approval, saying that it brought him to tears. For him to be thus affected is remarkable, since he not only composed the piece but has surely heard and directed it himself hundreds of times.

Some members of this choir will be traveling to Costa Rica next month to participate in a choral festival that the composers of this piece, Caldwell and his friend Sean Ivory, are leading. They have invited the very talented young oboe player in this video to play for the festival. Caitlin will not be attending but she will be there in spirit, thrilled for her friends and fellow singers to have this opportunity. She has been so blessed to sing with this group. She, by the way, can be seen near the back, right between the third and fourth riser rails: cute blonde, short hair, glasses, clearly enjoying this amazing piece of music.

I can't watch or listen to this without crying.

 

Evan's First Story

There is a Peanuts comic strip in which Snoopy starts a short story but doesn't finish it. The story is called "The Cabin. A Short Story." (That's as far as Snoopy got.) Today Evan decided to write Snoopy's story for him. Here is the result. I corrected capitalization (he did this on the computer and used no capitals) but nothing else.

The Cabin. A Short Story. 

In the great forest there was a wooden cabin. It was the only cabin in the forest.

Well, not necessarily. There was 1 other beat up and falling apart cabin.

In the first cabin there were 4 people living there. Here are the names. The adults were Mary and Jack. The children are Sally and Max.

In the second cabin lived nobody.

One day "Let's go for a walk" said Mary. "IN THE WOODS!?" shouted Max.

"Yes. In the woods," said Jack. Sally did not say anything. She was not afraid of the woods. She was also a quiet kid. 

Mary and Jack were not married. They are brother and sister. Mary is 41 and Jack is 42. Sally is 8 and Max is 7.*

When they were on a walk 4 people moved into the old and beat up cabin. The father was a carpenter. So he fixed the cabin.

When the family of the first cabin came back, they saw that the old cabin was fixed!

Sally and Max hoped there would be children to play with. There was! They were very happy that they had new friends.

Here are the new friends names. The adults are Emma and Sam. The children are Sky and Lucy. 

They all lived happily ever after. The end.

 *I asked him whose children Sally and Max are. He said they are Mary's children. I asked him where their father/Mary's husband is and he said their father doesn't live with them so their uncle is acting as their father. I find this really interesting since Evan has not been exposed to much divorce, although we do know a few families with absent fathers. I think the brother/sister thing reflects a hope he has that even when Trevor and Caitlin are grown they will continue living at home. I also think this story reflects a desire that Evan has been expressing lately to live where there is more nature and also to have friends in the neighborhood that he can play with. He doesn't have either of those things where we currently live.

And Not a Moment Too Soon

Several days ago Evan had an announcement.

"Mom, I want to get more serious about my life."

Well, okay! I asked him what he meant by that.

"I want to learn more things. I want to watch educational DVD's. You know, about earthquakes and hurricanes and the human body and cells . . . ."

He makes it sound as though we never learn anything around here. True, we are what is known in homeschooling circles as "relaxed." Some might even call us unschoolers, but strictly speaking, we aren't. We do impose a basic structure with certain requirements. Still, when things like this happen--when I see my kids using their freedom to follow up on natural curiosity--I feel like an honorary unschooler. Children don't want to sit around all day in a semi-vegetative state. (I would argue they can do that in school just as easily as they can at home.) They want to investigate and play and explore and create and if they are minimally encouraged and equipped, they will do so.

I reminded Evan of the DVD section of the library. (I have tried to interest him in those educational DVD's before, to no avail.) "We can check out DVD's on whatever you want to learn about!"

In the meantime, since he seemed especially interested in cells, I reminded him of a book that we already have in our home library. We have done some microscope studies, and I have previously called his attention to this book, but it was quickly rejected because of the picture on the cover. (Remember, I have an HSC. We have been reading Diane Stanley's children's book on Michelangelo, and Evan refused to look at the page with a drawing of Michelangelo preparing to do a human dissection--something the artist did many times to learn about human anatomy and thereby become a better sculptor. The drawing is not at all graphic, but it was too much for Evan. Maybe that's one reason he is becoming increasingly passionate about studying computers. They don't bleed.)

This book was rejected again. But after promising I would skip over the pages with bugs, I did manage to have him look at some magnifications of viruses, bacteria, and blood cells. After we were done, I accidentally left the book in his room. He brought it to me a little later, face down, and asked that I please put it away.

Maybe for now we better stick with the weather. And there's always hex editing, something he has been pleading to learn about for months. The risk there, of course, is the bleeding from my skull as I try to wrap my brain around something that was clearly not meant for human understanding.  

A Singing Weekend

Sunday was the culmination of a semester's worth of work with the children's choir organization we are involved in. It is a truly excellent musical enterprise that nevertheless is more concerned with teaching children to sing and to love music than it is with creating a perfect sound (though I must say they achieve the latter frequently enough). Young Naperville Singers currently comprises eight children's choirs; I accompany Evan's beginning level group as well as an intermediate girls' choir, and Caitlin sings with the top group. This made for a busy week of rehearsals and a full day of performances (it is necessary to have three concerts to accommodate all the choirs). Here, for those who are interested, are videos of Evan's choir from Sunday. I am playing piano, although I don't think you can ever see me; Evan is in the third row right, second from the middle.

The theme of the concert was "Under the Same Sky" and included both American and world music. Evan's choir director decided to focus on songs about sleep since we all sleep under the same sky. The first song was sung partly in Finnish and included some props and sound effects intended to evoke the sea.



"Silent Fish (Salaisuuden Kala)" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

The next two songs utilized the same text by Robert Louis Stevenson in two very different musical settings. This gave the children a chance to learn about musical style (modern v. folk) and to consider how the music reflected the text. The first piece was especially fun to play.



"Bed in Summer" - I from Cheryl on Vimeo.

"Bed in Summer" - II from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Our fourth song was a beautiful lullaby in two-part harmony.



"Good Night" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

For our fifth piece the director combined two pieces evocative of Africa, and the children were joined by an older choir for the background harmony.



"Uhura" and "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

It has been a great year for Evan, and he has matured so much socially and musically. Next year he will be joining the Boys' Choir, and I can't wait. Here is a short video I took of them rehearsing the day before the concerts:




I will try to put up videos of Caitlin's group in a few days.

Yes, Virginia, There Really Are Bullies

Certain topics seem to wax and wane. Bullying is one. It has come around again, which is fine with me since it is a topic I care a lot about. But what I have noticed is that it is rare to come across a balanced handling of the issue. There are two extremes: those who see bullying where it is not, and those who refuse to see it where it is.

Let me explain. The first category consists of people who use the allegation of bullying to silence freedom of thought and expression. Another name for it is political correctness, and it consists of commandeering the means of discourse so as to mold the way people think. With this strategy, certain words or points of view become synonymous with hate so that the mere expression of them is seen as proof of guilt. Thus, if you disapprove of homosexuality it must follow that you hate homosexuals. There is no acknowledgement of the distinction between an opinion regarding a certain type of behavior and the people who engage in that behavior.

The second category consists of those who deny that there is such a thing as bullying or who broadly dismiss its significance. The attitude here may be that one who alleges bullying is a wimp or crybaby who just needs to buck up and learn how to handle the bully. Or it may even be said that people who level the charge of bullying are bullies themselves, falsely accusing as a means of attacking their opponents or avoiding a substantive discussion. I find this argument to be amusingly circular since it denies the reality of bullying by labeling those who allege bullying as bullies. Huh? With this argument also comes a different kind of political correctness wherein the very use of the word "bully" is pointed to as proof that whoever used the word ought not be taken seriously.

I think the truth of the matter is somewhere between these two extremes. In the same way that I believe there is such a thing as a hate crime, I think there is such a thing as a bully. But in the same way that the concept of "hate crime" can be misapplied and abused, so can the charge of bullying. A hate crime is a crime that is motivated purely out of animosity for a specific group. So if someone targets a black person because he or she is black, that is a crime motivated by hate. It does not follow that every time a black person is targeted it is necessarily a hate crime. Similarly, there are marks of bullying that, in isolation, may not mean bullying is happening. Bullies may call people names; it doesn't mean that everyone who gets called a name is being bullied. But the fact that some allege bullying where it has not occurred does not mean therefore that every charge of bullying is spurious.

I have met a few bullies in my day, both in my youth and in my adulthood. I have personally been the target of bullies, and I have seen people I love be bullied. I have researched the topic rather thoroughly and think I know a bully when I see one, especially if it is one I have known and watched for a very long time. Here, for those interested, is a list of behaviors that in my opinion are highly indicative of bullying behavior. The more these behaviors are repeated by the same person in a continuing, systematic way, the more likely it is that you have a bully on your hands.

Bullies . . .

. . . engage in serial name-calling. Sometimes the names may not be obvious insults but may masquerade as lighthearted nicknames or teasing. But the ongoing refusal to use a person's proper name and to replace it with a carefully selected nickname is a means of dehumanizing and objectifying the person whose name is not being used and of elevating the nickname user.

. .  . intentionally keep people off balance. They run hot and cold. Think of how an abusive husband treats a battered wife. Some days he makes her feel like dirt. Other days he showers her with affection and gifts. This is done to make her feel insecure and to maintain the abuser's position of power in determining the state of the relationship. This may happen in the workplace or in personal relationships, but the common denominator is that the relationship is always on the bully's terms and never on the other person's.

. . . run in gangs. If you're in the gang you are made to feel as though you are special, part of the bully's inner circle. To maintain that favored status, absolute loyalty is required. If you question the bully or do anything that he deems a threat to his power, you become the object of a whispering campaign whereby you are marked and marginalized and eventually thrust out of the inner circle. You are then one who must be avoided, and those who are still on the "inside" will be threatened and intimidated into not associating with you for fear that they, too, will be punished.

. . . like witnesses. Bullying can happen in private. But bullies thrive on an audience because it significantly enlarges the scope and effect of the bullying. The target of the bully feels embarrassed and ashamed; the bully's assistants feel empowered; and onlookers or bystanders are terrorized: "That's what will happen to me if I cross this person." So bullying often happens in public or in a situation that has been previously determined and set up to achieve the maximum levels of shock and awe.

. . . are great judges of character, and they will analyze yours to see how best you will serve their purpose. Will you be more useful as a target or as a member of the gang? A bully may test the waters by name-calling or making fun of others in your presence; if you tolerate the behavior, you have proven that you may serve well as an accomplice. Object to the behavior, and you may suddenly find that you have become a target.

. . . are often people who were bullied themselves. Formerly victims, they have decided that the best defense is a powerful offense. In the same way that victims of child abuse may themselves become abusers, victims of bullies may grow up to themselves become the bullies or, at the very least, to align themselves with the bully. Better to be on his side than to become the target. This strategy is not only psychologically unhealthy and morally wrong, but it usually has a limited period of success. One who lives by the bully usually ends up dying by the bully.

You can expect future posts. I have more to say on this topic.

Adding Compliment to Injury

Caitlin told me today that on occasion when Evan has been angry at her he has yelled, "Caitlin, you do not make a good mother!"

I think it says something rather wonderful about them and their relationship that this is the worst insult that he can come up with to hurl at his sister.

(And for the record, Evan is very wrong. God willing, she is going to make a great mother some day.)

Remembering to Forget

We had an anniversary this weekend, but it wasn't the kind you might think. We didn't have a party. We didn't do anything to mark or celebrate the day. Still, we couldn't ignore it. For it was a little over a year ago, on April 20, 2012, that my husband lost his job.

It didn't happen immediately. He was given an end date, with about four months to look for something else. But for over three of those months, we didn't know if the "something else" was going to come. So it was a very long and difficult summer, one in which we had no choice but to face the possibility of unemployment and plan accordingly. I don't want to go into the details of the situation. Suffice it to say that while I have always considered Phillip's calling as a cantor (one who leads the Church's song) to be from the Lord, he has never been on our church body's official roster of called workers, having not come to the vocation of cantor in the traditional way. (That is soon to change, as he is close to completing the required courses for his colloquy.) In our former congregation his status as a contract worker meant that he was able to be dismissed without the knowledge or approval of the voters' assembly. I do want to state for the record that Phillip's firing had nothing to do with any of the reasons a congregation may, according to synod bylaws, dismiss a called worker: the teaching/promoting of false doctrine, leading of an immoral life, or willful refusal or inability to execute one's duties.

Losing a job, for anyone, is no small thing. It means not only the loss of income but also potentially the loss of professional status, on-the-job relationships, and personal purpose and motivation. But when a church worker loses a job, he loses all of that and more. He loses not just his boss, but his pastor(s); not just his office, but his communion rail; not just his friends, but his closest Christian brothers and sisters. And not only does he lose all these things, but his family does as well. In one fell swoop, it's all pulled away, at a time when those things are needed more than ever. In our case, we lost our church home of almost 13 years, the place where my two oldest children were catechized and confirmed and my youngest baptized. Not long after Phillip was fired the children and I quit attending. It was just too difficult, and we found it impossible to pretend that everything was fine. Phillip had to keep working there, however, so we spent months not being able to be in church together. We are thankful for the church and pastor who stepped in to provide spiritual care for me and the children. But for about four months we did not really have a church home. It was devastating.

It is sad beyond measure to know that what we experienced this past year is not all that unusual. I know of many church workers, either personally or through my reading, who have endured similar trials. They typically go through stages of grief much like those who have experienced the death of a loved one. Having lived for an extended period of time in a state of excessive and constant stress, they may experience a kind of PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) in which they are always on alert for the Next Bad Thing. And having undergone the compromising of some of their most valued relationships, they may have a difficult time trusting others to the extent that they can readily embrace new relationships.

We have experienced all of these things and are to some extent still doing so. It is hard to express how thankful I am for those at our new church who have welcomed and set about making us feel loved and wanted. With that kind of care I trust there will come a day when seeing April 20 on the calendar doesn't set me to remembering. Perhaps I will eventually get to the point that I can think about the good apart from the pain. I'm not there yet. But I write this today as an encouragement to those who may be in the midst of what we experienced last year, and I write from the perspective of one who has survived and is healing. Through it all, God sustained us. He provided. And he has continued to use this very bad time to bless us in ways that we are only now beginning to see. He has humbled and convicted us, reminding us of our utter helplessness and dependence on Him. He has shown us again what is truly needful and has deprived us of people and things that were coming between us and Him. He has showed us friends we didn't know we had and has sent many to speak to us Gospel comfort. And He has led us to new people, new opportunities, and new ways of serving Him--all without having to move from our home (which would have been yet another loss and difficult transition). Sometimes I can't believe how generously He has provided. Unfortunately in my sinfulness I still sometimes manage to be unappreciative.

As much as God has worked good through this situation, it is still something I wish had never happened. We are healing, but we will bear the scars forever. So I plead with you, if you are a lay person or a church worker who some day finds yourself in a position of responsibility or oversight, to do what you can to care for the bodies and souls of all involved. For "if one member suffers, all suffer together" (1 Cor. 12:26a). Sometimes there are irreconcilable differences and the best thing is to acknowledge that fact and say goodbye. At all times, though, love should reign, and often in our fallen state it does not. May God have mercy on us all and knit us together in Him even as the inept works of our graceless hands unravel before our eyes.

♫ Notes of Encouragement ♪

Several days ago the Cantor received an appreciation gift from the first graders at our church's day school. It consisted of handwritten notes from the students glued to a large piece of poster board. In the interest of both sharing and preserving for future enjoyment, here is a sampling:

"Your the best. Thank very much!"

"I like it very nice."

"Thanks for the help."

"Good job."

"You are the best."

"Thak you Mr. Magise."

"Tak you for help us doing sing."

"Thack you. :-)"

"I love you."

And my personal favorite:

"Thank you. You are the one how shud get the credit."

Adventures in Homeschooling, Driver's Edition

Sometimes I think God created homeschoolers just to challenge the rest of the world.

We went to register Caitlin for Driver's Ed today. (Yes, she is learning to drive later than the typical teenager. In this, as in most things, we are non-conformists.)

She will be taking the course this summer through our local school district. In preparation for registering for the class, I found information and materials online. The instructions said that we should show up on registration day with a completed registration form, a grade report signed by a school administrator :-), proof of residency (so as to get the lower in-district rate), a form of payment, and a student ID. The first four items were easy enough, but I wasn't sure what to do about the last one. She's never been a student in the district; why would she have an ID? In lieu of such, I added her passport to the pile.

We were warmly greeted at the door of the school and directed to the first table. It turned out the first step was getting one's student ID number checked for unpaid charges. The nice lady behind the table was confounded. What to do with a student with no ID? (It didn't seem to matter that the lack of a student ID equated to never having been a student and therefore never having had a previous balance.) She called for help, and we were again warmly greeted, this time by a gentleman who said, "Don't worry. You can take the class. We just have to figure out how to get you through the system." He left to work on it.

While we waited I chatted with the ID lady and her table partner. My fellow homeschoolers may recognize some of the dialogue.

"So you've never been a student in the district? You've never taken any classes?"

Nope. Not until now.

"And you've never used the school for services or extracurricular activities? For example, speech therapy or sports?"

No, we haven't.

"But you pay for these things with your property taxes. You have access to them." By this time, deep befuddlement was spreading across Nice Lady's face.

Believe me, I know we pay property taxes. Probably over $70,000 in the last thirteen years. I don't see that as a reason to utilize services we don't want or need.

"But aren't you required to register with the district even though you are homeschooling? So that they know about you?"

Well, no, we aren't. One of the things we like about Illinois is that there are no notification or reporting requirements.

"But what about tests? Don't you have to take tests? How do you get into college otherwise?"

Um, actually, testing is not required. And as for college entrance exams, not everyone goes to college. But amazingly enough, those who do are able to take the entrance exams without a school ID card.

By the time we left that table I think we had totally short-circuited that poor woman's synapses.

Next we were taken to another table manned by an extremely helpful assistant principal who temporarily waived the ID requirement so as to sign Caitlin up for the class. She told us, however, to go to the administration building next week to register as a student with the district and to get a student ID because ultimately we would need one to get credit for the class. From the assistant principal we were sent to the final table for payment and, expectedly, the first scene repeated itself. "I can't process your payment without a student ID number." "But Mrs. Smith said we could do this today and get the student ID later in the week." "Well, I'll try, but I don't think the system will take it."

Guess what? For once the computer was easier to convince than the human being. Our payment went through without a hitch. I guess "the system" likes adding to its balance sheet.

I was impressed by our district's openness to homeschoolers when Caitlin took the PSAT (we didn't need a student ID for that); I was impressed again today by the desire of the school personnel to find a way to make it work in spite of their difficulty figuring out what to do with us. I am surprised that we seem to be such a rare breed. Certainly they have encountered people like us before? Wait. Maybe I don't want to hear the answer to that question.

Caitlin told me later that while I was talking to the school personnel she was doing her best to put on her "normal teenager" face. (If you ask me, she looks a lot more normal than some of her peers in line today.) As for me, I'm a little disappointed that we weren't able to get her through all twelve years of school without having to acquire a student ID number. But we have decided that we need outside help with this endeavor, and sending her to a private driving school would be at minimum twice the cost of taking Driver's Ed at the high school. Obviously our rebelliousness has its limits. Goodbye, weirdness; hello, driver's license!

Intrepid Lutherans

We are having floods in Chicago. Schools have cancelled classes and activities, cars are falling into sinkholes, rivers are breaching their banks, and sump pumps are working overtime. But did that stop our middle grade choir from keeping their scheduled date to sing at Concordia University-Chicago this morning? No, it did not. These are Southsiders, after all. They are made of tougher stuff. And they have a leader who allows very little to come between him and the liturgy. (Of course, that meant his accompanist had to make the trip, too.)

It goes without saying that the children sang beautifully, receiving many accolades from students and professors alike. The drive to and from CUC was uneventful, if a bit longer than usual. Many thanks to everyone whose support made this day possible!

Allergic Lutherans

I see it all the time. Someone, somewhere on the internet says something and all hell breaks loose. Certainly you have seen it, too:

You want to talk about what the sanctified life looks like? You must be a pietist.

You reverence the cross and chant the liturgy? You must be one of those repristinators.

You sang THAT song? Your church must be on the road to Contemporary Worship.

You are being critical of a pastor? You must have no respect for the pastoral office.

The list could go on, but you get the idea. It seems that in the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod today it is almost impossible to have a meaningful conversation about any number of things because of the speed with which the line is drawn any time a "hot button" issue comes up. We are frankly more polarized than the United States Congress. "You're on that side; I'm on this side; you are not, therefore, to be trusted. You are, in fact, to be marked, avoided, and demonized." From that point, it's all downhill, as the competing viewpoints choose up teams and congregate on blogs and Facebook walls. Snarky comments are written and funny pictures and songs posted that refer vaguely to the opposition and that are understood only by insiders, and much fun is had by all; if someone comes along and questions the behavior, he is told he can't take a joke. Well, maybe he can't. But maybe that's the point. I think we may be so very divided, with so much invested emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually, that it might in some (most?) cases be best to forgo humor, snark, satire and the rest. Maybe if we spent more time trying to earnestly understand and then to respond in kindness and love, we would actually make a little progress towards finding our common ground.

(N.B. I'm not holding my breath.)

When Crazy Is Not Crazy

I saw this excellent article linked on Facebook.

The Depression Epidemic

It's long. But if you or someone you love has ever struggled with depression, it's worth your time to read. One of the things I particularly liked about it, apart from the Christian underpinnings, consisted of some observations about both the causes and the treatments for depression that I think are frequently missing from the discussion. We are accustomed to hearing these days that depression is primarily a physical problem that can be traced to biological causes: genetic predisposition, chemical imbalance, vitamin deficiency, etc. We are also accustomed to hearing that the most effective treatments for depression are those which focus on helping the depressed person manage his "condition" either biologically with medication and diet or psychologically with cognitive behavioral therapy. What I appreciated about this article was an acknowledgment throughout that there are causes for depression, and for its increasing incidence in modern society, that exist outside of the depressed person. No, depression is not merely feeling sad about sad things.  Everyone does that. At the same time, bad things do happen. And sometimes so many bad things happen, and they continue for such a long time, that an individual can find it difficult to carry on normally. Frustration, anger, lack of motivation, and hopelessness set in and sadness turns to something more.

This paragraph on cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) in particular stood out to me:

But cognitive behavioral therapies have been criticized for focusing on the person as such and ignoring the context of the person within society. Psychotherapist Robert Fancher believes the CBT approach "devalues those attributes of mind most likely both to create culture and to take us beyond the status quo—imagination, passion, and the courageous, painful process of bringing new ways of thinking and living to birth. It amounts to an endorsement of the middlebrow life under the authority of 'good mental health.' " To put it more simply, cognitive therapy tends to reinforce the social norm, focusing almost exclusively on assisting the individual to adapt to the environment.

Did you get that? Sometimes people have a hard time adjusting, or being happy with life, because of life! Who would have thought? Could it be that the depressed person is contending with a troubled home environment or a dysfunctional work situation? Are those things that one should have to learn to adapt to? Is it healthy for someone to learn to function in an unhealthy situation?

I do understand that when faced with things that are beyond one's control to change, the sensible course of action is to learn strategies for dealing with them. My mother lives with me. It is difficult at times. In the way that I react to certain things, I can either compound the difficulty or ease it. Best to seek out strategies for doing the latter! At the same time, there is a limit to what coping strategies can accomplish. There is also a limit to what they should accomplish. There are certain things we should not have to get used to.

I am reminded of the name originally used for many public schools in this country. They were called "normal" schools because their purpose was to "normalize" children--to make them behave in a certain prescribed way that was thought desirable by the government. We still see this carrying over in institutional schools today. Those children who easily acquiesce to the specified expectations--who are obedient, malleable, and accepting of structure--are "normal" whereas those who rebel against the arbitrary nature of the system are "problems." I say this as one who was one of the "normal" ones. What is abnormal about a child who would prefer to play outside, interact with people, and engage in truly stimulating activities rather than sit in a desk, be quiet and do mind-numbing worksheets all day?

We live in a world in which "normal" is going about one's business and looking the other way while newborn babies are stabbed in the necks by doctors who say that in doing so they are providing "health care." Those who try to bring attention to the horror are "extremists." No, nothing to be depressed about there.

In one of my favorite books, Catch-22 by Joseph Heller, the main character Yossarian is faced with a dilemma. He is a WWII bombardier who doesn't like war and doesn't want to die. A possible escape hatch would be the attainment of a Section 8 (a discharge for those considered mentally unfit). The problem is that to get a Section 8, one must request it. But if one requests it, one thereby demonstrates one's sanity, which in turn disqualifies one from the requested discharge.

Some years ago a friend's baby died. The child was born with a congenital disease and lived barely a week past birth. For a time my friend and her husband were supported in the unimaginable grief that they were enduring. But there came a point when people expected them to get back to normal. Why were they still having so much difficulty? When would they return to full functioning? Unfortunately some of this came from the Lutheran church and school this couple served.

The world and its institutions--our workplaces, our schools, our churches, and yes, even our friends and our families--call upon us to adjust. But sometimes the sanest thing we can do is refuse. Barry Goldwater said, "Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice." Perhaps behaving "abnormally" in the face of abnormal conditions isn't either.

 Crazy like a fox.

Carmina Burana

This video from last month was just made available. It was taken a week after Trevor's performance of the Rachmaninoff Second on the University of Nebraska Symphony Orchestra's Concerto Winners concert. Here Trevor and the graduate concerto winner team up to provide piano accompaniment for the University Singers' presentation of Carl Orff's setting of Carmina Burana. For those not familiar with this work, the text dates from the Middle Ages and consists of a set of poems covering all manner of worldly topics. It was originally scored by Orff for orchestra but he later reworked it to be accompanied by dual piano and percussion so as to increase the ability of more choirs to perform it. Not everyone has a symphony orchestra lying around! It's an enjoyable, exciting work, and I encourage you to listen. It runs a little over an hour. Turn it on while you're cleaning the house. It will keep you moving!

(Side note: when not accompanying the University Singers, Trevor sings with them.)

 

He almost didn't let me share this one.

He's still getting over a bug, and the voice is a little stressed. (Or so he says.) He had to transpose this into a lower key last night so he could sing it.

That's Evan turning around to grin at me. (And yes, he did comb his hair this morning--why do you ask?) Caitlin is next to him.

The congregation loved this. Little do they realize that some day they'll be joining in on that refrain. :-D




Psalm 148 from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Empathy

A few months ago a friend posted the video below on her Facebook wall. I found it very moving at the time and have thought about it more than once since then, particularly as I have spent the last several months watching my mother struggle to recover from a broken hip. The video imagines what it would be like if we could see inside the lives of those we meet in passing. If we knew what they were facing--divorce, childlessness, a cancer diagnosis, chronic pain, a dying family member--would we treat them any differently? Would we be gentler, kinder, more patient and tolerant? I'm guessing we would all like to think that the answer is yes. And yet so often it seems that even with those whom God has put before us, those we are close to, our knowledge of their trials does not always translate to our treating them with charity. If we sometimes find it difficult to be magnanimous towards people we know, are we likely to have much empathy for strangers?

More than once while she was in rehab my mom said of the nursing staff (with whom she was rarely happy), "They don't understand! They don't know what it's like to be in my position!" On one particularly trying day I told her that she was right. They didn't understand, and neither did I. There was really no way any of us could. But I then asked her to consider that she also didn't understand what the nurses were dealing with in their own lives. What problems were they facing at home and professionally as they tried to care for their patients? What health issues or physical pain were they trying to ignore as they worked long hours caring for my mom and others?

The more I think about empathy, the more I question the extent to which it is possible for a human being to truly experience it. I think we are most likely to have empathy for those we love dearly: our children, our spouses, our close friends and relatives. When they hurt, we hurt for them. And yet we can never truly feel what another person feels. We are limited to the body in which the Creator has placed us and the perspective with which He has provided us. With those limitations, the best we can do is to be as caring as we can while we try to understand. And if we have experienced a similar trial, perhaps we can feel some real empathy. But even then, I think empathy is elusive. One person's grief or loss or pain is not going to be the same as another's.

The dictionary makes a distinction between empathy--actually sharing in another's pain--and sympathy--acknowledging and caring about that pain. I think empathy is sometimes seen as having a higher value. Sympathy is a superficial greeting card emotion, whereas empathy is something we experience personally. Yet empathy is rare. Perhaps it is not even all that desirable. Why would we want to include another in our pain? What is gained by our experiencing the pain of another? But sympathy--ah, sympathy. To care about a pain that is not our own and to want to understand and help ease it. That is not greeting card stuff. That is love.

Looks About Right To Me

Evan recently watched a Looney Tunes cartoon wherein one of the characters (I don't remember which one) was giving his friends stereotypical nicknames. Evan decided to replace the Looney Tunes characters with members of his family. Here's what he came up with.

Evan: "the smart one"
Caitlin: "the gifted one"
Trevor: "the golden boy"
Mom: "the saint"
Dad: "the dependable one"
Grandma: "the jock" ☺

The Best of Easter Sunday

For those interested who might not see these otherwise.


Our Middle Grade Choir totally rocked this one with text by Gerhardt, music by Magness. Rise and shine!

"Awake" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

Worldwide premier of this new organ Prelude by our friend Rev. Jon Vieker:

Prelude on GAUDEAMUS PARITER ("Come Ye Faithful, Raise the Strain") from Cheryl on Vimeo.

The piano man doing what he does.

"Christ Has Arisen, Alleluia" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

One of our favorite choral works, composed by our friend Kevin Hildebrand. Trinity's choir has not done a great deal of a cappella singing, but you wouldn't know it from this performance. Kudos to them for their hard work and dedication. And yes, they have a pretty good director. :-)

"I Am the Resurrection" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

And finally, some full-out congregational singing with rockin' brass. I was a little too close to the brass section, so the brass-organ balance is not reflected very well in the video.

"Jesus Christ Is Risen Today" from Cheryl on Vimeo.

I will probably put up a few more--if you are interested, keep checking my Vimeo page. By the way, I attended three services yesterday, so even though I did some videotaping I had plenty of opportunities to just sing. Happy Easter. He is risen!